


Soothing ruffles feathers

by candy_belle



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Fluff, M/M, a few bad words, wing fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-26
Updated: 2018-06-26
Packaged: 2019-05-29 01:09:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15061757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/candy_belle/pseuds/candy_belle
Summary: Pat helps Jon sort out his wings when they get ruffled during a game





	Soothing ruffles feathers

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure where this came from, but the idea of Tazer with wings wouldn't leave me alone. This is the first thing I've managed to write in a long time, so please be kind!

The fourth time Jon shifted in driving seat and grunted, Pat had had enough. Glancing over, he asked, ”What’s wrong? You keep squirming.”

“Nothing.” 

Twisting in the passenger seat, Pat cocked an eye at the surprisingly harsh tone. As he was about to answer back he suddenly stopped himself. Looking at Jon’s profile he could see a vein throbbing on the edge of his temple, a vein that only ever throbbed like that when he was either furious or in pain. And as far as he knew, nothing has annoyed him enough that night to cause the vein to react. Which could mean only one thing. Jon was in pain. 

Narrowing his eyes, he took a moment to look at him, to really look. And what he saw had caused his frown to deepen. Jon was hunched forward, his hands gripping the steering wheel, his eyes staring dead ahead not taking in anything other than the road in front of them. Biting the inside of his lip, Pat slumped back against his seat and waited.

It didn’t take them long to reach their house. It was further away from the rink than their old apartments but it was more secluded, more private and perfect for them. Pat hesitated watching Jon get out of the car. There was a stiffness to his movements that was unusual. And it worried him.

He trailed after him, stopping to grab both their bags as Jon unlocked the front door. The silence was getting thicker between them and Pat desperately wanted to break the stalemate but he knew better than to press too hard. They had spent too many nights screaming at each other during their rookie years, before either of them got the sense to back off and wait.

Having dropped the bags into the closet, Pat followed Jon into the kitchen and waited. Jon was currently leaning into the fridge ferreting around looking for something.

“Jon?” called Pat softly. He waited and when there was no response, he called again, slightly louder this time, “Jonny, hey! Talk to me.”

Jon glanced over his shoulder and glared at him. A lesser man might have bene afraid of the dead shark eyes glaring at him. But not Pat. He knew that look. He knew it far too well. Searing under his breath he rounded the counter and all but backing a surprised Jon into the open fridge he snapped, ”Take it off.”

Jon glared at him, his jaw tightening dangerously but before he could say anything, Pat added soothingly, “we’re all alone babe, come on take it off. They must be aching from being curled up for so long.”

Jon stared at him, the difference in their height giving him a slight advance but it didn’t deter Pat. Reaching out he ran his hand down the white t-shirt covering Jon’s chest and toying with the soft hem, he sighed, “it’s just me, come on. Take it off and let them out.”

Jon said nothing for a few moments. Then almost deflating in front of him, he gently shoved Pat backwards, huffing playfully, “Well back up.”

Pat grinned at him, backing up to the nearest stool. Settling down he grabbed his bottle of water and took a swig. He was hoping for a good show, he loved watching Jon release his wings, but as the white t-shirt came up and he caught a glimpse of the harness he nearly chocked on water. The wings which were normally carefully folded back and held carefully in place by the harness, were all over the place, poking out between the straps and webbing of the harness. In an instant he was beside Jon demanding, “What the hell? 

Jon glared at him, then closing his eyes, he confessed, “Start of the 3rd, when Kesler and I collided on the boards and went down. As we got up, he jerked on the harness, I felt a strap go but there wasn’t time to do anything other than slam it back in place. It trapped the primary feathers…” his voiced faded into a pained sigh.

Pat started at him, bile rising in his throat. He knew how sensitive those primary feathers were, especially the wingtips. He had glorious experience of just how response those long silky feathers could be, so the idea that someone would a purposefully hurt Jon that way, would be as cruel as yank his wings made his blood boil. 

“You should have...”

“There wasn’t time,” interrupted Jon firmly, “We had a game to win. I wasn’t going to leave just so I could readjust myself.”

“Readjust yourself?” spluttered Pat, ”Jesus you make it sound like your cup slipped! For fuck sake...”

“It’s nothing,” insisted Jon, trying hard to dislodge Pat’s hand from his shoulders.

“Bullshit!” relied Pat. He glared angrily at his partner then tilting his head, he asked, ”Did you tell Seabs? Did you let him know?”

“No,” frowned Jon, obviously not following what he meant.

Pat pursed his lips then grabbing his phone, he hit speed-dial. After only a few moments a sleepy voice answered but before Seabs could saying anything more, Pat said angrily, “Kesler hurt Jon’s wings.” Even Jon heard the expletive from Seabs on the other end of the line. 

“Exactly,” agreed Pat, holding Jon’s gaze. “So do me favour, put the word out. He’s enemy number one at the rematch next week.” He paused, then with a slightly cruel smirk curling his lip, he added, “Tell the boys to make it hurt.”

“Kaner,”growled Jon, rolling his eyes at him, “It’s nothing I can’t handle. I…” 

“It was something,” countered Pat ending the call to Seabs. “Jon, you’re in pain, don’t deny it. I can see from the way you are standing. So shut up, come here, and let me help.”

For a moment Jon looked as if he was going to argue, as if he was going to make it a very hard night. But then, to Pat’s delight, he eventually gave a resigned sign and turned around, saying, “Fine but just...”

“I know, babe” soothed Pat, wiping the condensation from his water on his jeans, so his hands were clean, “I know. I’ll be as careful as possible.”

Jon nodded and then tensed his shoulders. Pat could see why. The Velcro straps that normally went nowhere near the tender primary feathers were caught up in the left wing. The right wing seemed to have escaped almost unscathed, it looked a little ruffled but otherwise it was ok. It was the left one that needed Pat’s attention, and as he carefully eased the first strap off, he winced as a black feather came away with the Velcro.

“Sorry,” he soothed as Jon hissed, his whole back tensing up. “Fuck, the left wing is really messed up, Jonny.”

“Yeah that was the side he yanked,” grunted Jon, his whole body shuddering as Pat eased another strap lose. Finally as the harness came free, Pat stepped back, and said, “You’re free, babe. Stretch them out.”

Jon shot him a glance, giving him a thankful smile, before bowing his head and slowly unfurling the right wing. 

Pat would never get tired of that sight. Jon’s beautiful body framed by the elegant black wings. The right one stretched and flexed as usual the feather ruffling themselves back into position. But the left one hung uneasily. The feathers were matted and caught up. Pat watched as Jon tried to flex it, the muscles on that side of his black straining to get the wing to obey.

“You need a hand?” asked Pat. He knew better than to touch the wings without permission. He could still remember the first time he had touched them and Jon had knocked him across their shared hotel room.

“Please,” breathed Jon, “they’ve knitted together. I can’t get them free.”

“No worries,” soothed Pat knowing exactly what to do, “Hold on.” 

He hurried into the downstairs bathroom, coming back with the special comb they used to groom Jon’s wings. As he came back unto the kitchen, he found Jon braced against the counter, his arms taking all his weight, his head hung low as he flexed and shifted his shoulders. The sight of Jon stripped the waist, in a position that left little to the imagination, was enough to have Pat salivating.

“Damn.”

Jon glanced at him and smiled for the first time that evening. He looked drawn, and that worried Pat. Closing the space between them, Pat reached out and ran a hand along the edge of the right wing. He loved the full body shudder the move got in return from Jon Grinning like the cat that got the cream, Pat turned his attention to the left wing. Starting with the smaller covert top feathers, he slowly and careful started to ease them back into position. 

Working methodically down the ruffled wing, he would pause every now and then to press a kiss to Jon’s spine, tracing the spot where the wings met the toned skin. Every time he did, Jon whimpered and his body shook. As he reached the mangled edge feathers, Pat slowed his touches to the lightest of passes. He didn’t want to hurt Jon any more than he had already be hurt. Running the grooming brush through the messy tips, he finally set the last feather back in place. The moment it was place, Jon flexed his shoulders and the left wing lifted out of Pat’s grasp. Pat stepped back, watching as Jon flexed his now groomed wing, blues and purples playing across the black surfaces as the light caught them. 

”You’ve got the softest hands, Peeks,” sighed Jon, pleasure and relief audible in his voice, “Thank you.”

Pat grinned at him and leaning forward to press a final kiss to the shoulder blades, he squawked as Jon suddenly spun around and wrapped him into for a bear hug. As Jon pulled him closer, so their chests where pressed together, the now pristine wings folded around him as well, enveloping him in the best kind of hug. Letting his hands fall to Jon’s hips he leant back. 

Letting Jon’s arms take his weight, he asked, “You feeling better? Less of a grumpy grouch.” Jon started to protest but he added, ”Next time - tell me. Please,” he paused then breathed, “I hate you hiding your pain.”

“I know,” sighed Jon, “I’m sorry. I just, we, there was no time to get it sorted.”

“You should have told me,” insisted Pat, glaring at him, his hands flexing on Jon’s hips, “You should have told Seabs.”

Jon tensed for a moment and Pat wondered if he has pushed too hard. But then Jon simply sighed, and letting his head drop forward, he rested his forehead against Pat’s. They both stayed quiet, neither willing to break the fragile comfortable silence that had settled around them. But the, as the wings flexed and undulated against him, Pat simply snuggled closer into the strange embrace, and brushing his lips against the edge of Jon’s jaw line, he murmured, “You’re a pain in butt, Toes.”

For a moment there was nothing, then he heard the soft chuckle break free from Jon, and he knew without looking there was a goofy smile gracing the normally serious face. Unwilling to break the embrace, he pressed forward, slipping his hands around Jon’s hips until they rested on the near perfect rump. Pressing against his partner, he let his head fall onto Jon’s shoulder and murmured suggestively, “You know, you could say thank you to me for grooming you.”

“I suppose I could,” hummed Jon thoughtfully, the sound translating into a full body vibration that had Pat shivering in anticipating. “And how do you propose I say thank you?”

Pat grinned and lifting his head up he looked at the now relaxed grinning fool in front of him, and replied, “I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

“I’m sure I will,” replied Jon slowly bending his head and capturing Pat’s mouth for a soft knowing kiss. A kiss Pat knew was the promise of something better to come.

fin x


End file.
